


You're My Business

by hazelNuts



Series: Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bodyswap, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Cora, Oblivious Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lydia wakes up one morning, she's not in her own room, or her own house. Hell, she's not even in her own body.</p><p>
  <i>It’s funny, Lydia’s had hangovers before, but this feels different. She doesn’t feel sick, just tired and has a headache. Her sheets smell a bit strange, but not bad. Kind of nice actually. Maybe her mom bought new fabric softener. Lydia inhales deeply and burrows down into the nice scent. </i>
</p><p>For Teen Wolf Femslash Fic Rec's Femslash February Challenge - Day 5: Bodyswap & Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo prompt: Poetry Slam</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Business

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.

There is a pounding in Lydia’s head, and it feels like her brain is trying to break through her skull. She groans. It’s not fair, she only had one drink. How can she have a hangover from _one_ drink? The voices outside her bedroom door that woke her up get a little louder, and she pulls the sheets over her head to try and block them out. The voices somehow get _louder_. With a sigh Lydia gives up on going back to sleep and blinks open her eyes, but closes them again immediately, snuggling back under the covers. Lights and sounds should not be this invasive after only one drink.

It’s funny, Lydia’s had hangovers before, but this feels different. She doesn’t feel sick, just tired and has a headache. Her sheets smell a bit strange, but not bad. Kind of nice actually. Maybe her mom bought new fabric softener. Lydia inhales deeply and burrows down into the nice scent.

The voices get impossibly louder, even though she’s sure no one is in her room. She finally recognizes one of them. Why is Derek even here? Did she forget something at the send-off party for him and Cora last night?

Lydia flinches when her door bangs open. It’s like a canon went off next to her ear.

‘Get up!’

Lydia doesn’t recognize the voice, but the tone reminds her of Cora, impatient and commanding.

‘Lydia, _get up_ ,’ the stranger growls. It might not be Cora, but they’re definitely a Hale.

‘Lydia?’ Derek sounds confused. Why is he confused? He’s in _her_ house.

Her sheets are ripped away and Lydia turns to glare at… herself?

Anger rises in her chest and bursts like a popped balloon. Someone is pretending to be her! Lydia jumps out of bed and pushes the fake her away.

‘Cora, stop!’ Derek is suddenly there, gripping her wrists, a look of concern and confusion on his face.

‘That’s not me,’ fake-Lydia says. ‘That’s Lydia.’

‘What?’ Derek lets go of Lydia’s wrists like he’s been burned and stares from one girl to the other, sniffing the air. His eyes widen and he takes a step back.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Lydia grits out, her voice still hoarse from sleep. It’s too early for this. She pulls a hand through her hair, only to find that half of it is _gone_. Grabbing a strand of hair, Lydia pulls it in front of her eyes. It’s short and it’s black. _What the hell?_

Lydia turns to the vanity next to her bed, but it’s not there. The room she’s in is almost completely bare, just a bed, an empty desk, a pair of packed suitcases and a backpack standing next to the door.

‘Why am I in Cora’s room?’ Lydia asks, turning to Derek and fake-Lydia. Her breathing quickens and a feeling of dread fills her stomach as Lydia walks to the bathroom in a daze.

The feeling of dread turns into fury when she finally finds a mirror. She storms back to the bedroom.

‘What the hell did you do?’ she asks Cora, who is now standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

‘Lydia, calm down.’ Derek grips her arm and pulls her back before she can move any closer to the other girl. Lydia tries to pull loose, but Derek holds up her hands in front of her face. Claws extend from her fingertips. Lydia holds her breath and counts to ten slowly. The anger dies down to a simmer and the claws retract.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Cora growls out. Or she tries to. Lydia’s vocal cords don’t appear to be made for growling.

‘Neither did I, sweetheart,’ Lydia retorts sweetly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

‘This too weird,’ Derek groans, releasing Lydia and walking out of the room. ‘I’m going to call the others.’

~

None of the others are a lot, or any, help. Stiles and Erica can’t stop laughing, and Lydia suspects Allison is having a similar problem from how she’s hiding behind Isaac. Boyd makes them tea, which is at least nice, even if it doesn’t really help with their situation. Isaac looks torn between being freaked out and joining Stiles and Erica with their dirty jokes. The only person who is remotely helpful is Scott.

‘I’ll go to Deaton with Stiles. Between the three of us, we’ll find something,’ he assures them. He looks a little weirded out, but not worried. With everything that’s happened in the past couple years, a bodyswap doesn’t seem like that big of a problem. Scott pulls Stiles off the floor and drags him out of the apartment.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Cora grumbles. ‘Not with them staring at me all the time.’

‘I’ll go get dressed. Then we can go to my  place and get you _properly_ dressed,’ Lydia agrees.

‘What are you talking about?’ Cora asks, looking down at her clothes in confusion. She’s wearing the only pair of sweatpants Lydia owns and a black tank top.

‘My body is not walking around like that,’ Lydia says, waving her hand to indicate the entirety of the outfit, including the shabby braid.

‘It already has.’ Cora points out with a smirk.

~

Lydia gets dressed, huffing in frustration when she can’t find anything but jeans and plaid in Cora’s suitcase. It’s a little awkward to say the least. Cora refuses to leave the room while Lydia is dressing. Not that Lydia is usually very shy about her body, but this isn’t _her_ body.

‘I’ve seen myself naked plenty of times,’ Cora ends the argument. ‘Just put on some pants, okay?’

‘Fine.’

It doesn’t go much better when they get to Lydia’s house. Cora can’t seem to get the hang of walking in heels, so Lydia has to go on a quest to find some flats. And when Lydia sets Cora down on the bed and sits across from her to do her make-up, Cora actually rears back.

‘Why is there so much?’ she asks in horror. ‘I get the mascara and eyeliner. I can even understand lipstick. But what’s all the other stuff for? Your skin looks fine without it.’

‘Because I don’t want to look fine. I want to look _great_.’

But Lydia doesn’t want a repeat of the shoe argument, so she settles for mascara and a little lip-gloss. She’s relieved when Cora doesn’t put up a fight about doing her hair up.

By the time they’re both dressed to their current body’s original owner’s satisfaction, and only slightly uncomfortable, it’s already far past lunchtime. Lydia makes them both sandwiches and they quickly shuffle them down before leaving. Her mom will be home soon and she has no idea how to even start explaining all this.

They drive into town, trying to figure out what to do. Neither of them wants to go back to the Hale siblings’ apartment, and Lydia refuses to spend the entire day in the preserve. Finally, they settle on seeing a movie. They pick something they don’t expect will have a lot of loud noises, since Lydia is still getting used to the enhanced hearing—she keeps looking around for the sources of sounds that are almost a block away.

It’s mid-afternoon on a Thursday, and they’re the only ones in the theatre. They decide on the back row, as far away from any speakers as possible and close to the doors in case Lydia needs a hasty retreat to get control back. She’s been doing pretty well so far, though, her only slip being almost eviscerating Cora that morning. Cora isn’t doing so well with her dulled senses, surprised every time someone walks by her, and once jumping a foot in the air when a guy behind her coughed.

‘Being human sucks,’ Cora grumbles, relaxing into her seat and angrily stuffing her mouth with popcorn.

‘I’m not human,’ Lydia reminds her.

‘You’re right.’

It’s surreal to see her own face move through different emotions. Since she woke up, Lydia’s mostly seen anger and annoyance on her own face, making her look so much like Cora that it had barely registered. But now, the look of apprehension on her face makes Lydia feel unsettled. The urge to take Cora home and keep her safe is almost overwhelming. Probably just some primal need to keep her own body safe, Lydia thinks.

‘I wouldn’t worry about it too much,’ Lydia tries to reassure her. ‘Being a banshee is not really a physical thing. I think. It’s definitely not like being a werewolf. My eyes don’t even change colour.’

Cora looks relieved and stuffs another handful of popcorn in her mouth. Lydia really hopes there won’t be any surprise visits from her banshee powers today.

They don’t talk during the movie, Lydia too busy trying to think her way out of their current predicament. None of those movies about bodyswaps have prepared her for this. She feels disoriented and awkward. Thank god she and Cora are about the same height, because if either of them had been significantly taller, or a completely different build, this could have been even more of a disaster. Now, they only have to deal with enhanced and dulled senses, which is more than enough.

When they walk out of the theatre a message from Scott is waiting for them. According to Deaton bodyswaps between two supernatural beings usually occur when there is “unfinished business”. Lydia sighs and Cora groans.

‘What the hell does that even mean?’ Cora glares in frustration.

‘I don’t know, but we might as well get dinner while we talk it over.’

The restaurant they choose is dark in a way that is supposed to be romantic, but Lydia generally just finds annoying. Today, the gloom is a blessing to her sensitive eyes. The hostess leads them to a table at the far side of the restaurant. It’s close to the kitchen and a little lighter than the rest of the room.

‘Anything your body can’t have?’ Cora asks, scanning the menu. A lock of hair escapes form the updo Lydia put in her hair. Lydia’s fingers twitch to tuck it behind Cora’s ear, but before she can move Cora has already put it back in place.

‘No,’ Lydia says, shaking her head. ‘But please remember my body doesn’t need as much food as yours does.’

‘So I can order only _one_ desert?’ Cora asks, pouting. It’s an odd look, partly because Lydia can’t imagine herself pouting, but the fact that it’s _Cora_ pouting is even more ridiculous.

‘If you still want to be able to move after dinner, I wouldn’t recommend ordering more than one,’ Lydia chuckles.

‘You could just carry me around for the rest of the night,’ Cora grins. ‘I know my body can take it.’

The image of Cora holding her up flashes through Lydia’s mind, it quickly turns to Cora holding her down. She blinks the image away and shifts her attention back to the Cora sitting in front of her. The Cora wearing her body. The Cora that wouldn’t even be there if she were in her own body.

‘But I’d still have to _want_ to carry you around,’ Lydia bites out, suddenly angry. She ignores the surprised stutter of Cora’s heart at her icy tone.

They eat mostly in silence, the atmosphere a lot less comfortable than it had been. Lydia feels a little guilty about that. She can’t blame Cora for wanting to leave Beacon Hills, and it’s not like she asked Cora to stay. She hadn’t known how to without making it seem like she wanted Cora to stay just for _her._

Slowly, the air between them settles again, and by the time they’re eating desert, Lydia feels herself smiling at Cora’s story of how she once tricked Derek into eating tree bark.

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Cora suggests as they shrug into their coats.

Lydia readily agrees. They haven’t figured out their unfinished business yet, but mostly Lydia doesn’t want to say goodbye. It’s been nice, finally getting to spend so much time with Cora, even if it hasn’t helped the painful squeeze in her chest whenever she remembers that Cora was supposed to leave today.

They haven’t been walking for very long when Lydia sees the announcement. It’s taped to the window of a coffee shop. Not one of those sleek ones, with a nice colour scheme and polished chrome, but one that looks more like a thrift store than a coffee shop. Nothing matches, not even the pillows on the couches. Lydia isn’t a big fan of these places, preferring the efficiency of the chain stores. The announcement is for a poetry slam that evening.

‘How about we get some coffee here?’ she asks. ‘We’re not likely to bump into anyone we know and people will be too busy with the poetry to pay attention to us.’

Cora looks sheepish, and a faint blush paints her cheeks. ‘Uhm.’

Lydia’s mind quickly connects the dots and her mouth drops.

‘You write poetry?’ she asks. She always thought Cora simply punched her feelings away.

‘Sometimes,’ Cora shrugs. ‘And it’s not that good.’

‘Do you want to go in?’ Lydia asks, this time more seriously. Cora looks a little hesitant, so before she can say no, Lydia pulls her inside. Her curiosity roused, she’s not about to let this opportunity pass by.

It’s warm in the coffee shop, and the mixed smells of _people_ and _coffee_ is nicer than Lydia expected. Most of the seats are already taken, but Lydia spots two empty chairs at a table in the back. They won’t really be able to see the stage, and if the crowd is loud they won’t be able to hear much either. Lydia weaves her way between the tables and pushes Cora in one of the empty chairs.

‘I’m going to get us coffees,’ Lydia tells her, before making her way to the counter.

She pays a little more attention to the clientele as she walks through the shop this time. Most of them look like copies of one another: glasses—Lydia suspects some of them are fake—vests, tweed jackets, carefully messy hair, rolled up jeans legs, and all of them are cradling cups of coffee. There are some leather jackets, a few guys who managed to grow a full beard, a couple graphic tees, and one person with more tattoos than clothes. Lydia looks back at Cora, picturing her mingling in with this crowd. It’s hard to imagine, it’s not a side of Cora she’s ever seen.

‘Cora!’ the boy behind the counter greets her.

‘What? Oh, hey,’ Lydia smiles back, trying her best to pretend she recognizes him. The boy can’t be much older than she is, with a mess of blond curls that hasn’t seen a comb in weeks and a t-shirt that has the picture of a coffee cup and the words “Ceci n’est pas une caffée”.

‘You know that’s not correct, right?’ she says, pointing at the shirt.

The boy sighs and rolls his eyes. ‘So you keep telling me. And I keep telling you it’s meant to be ironic.’

‘So it’s a triple ironic shirt?’

‘Double ironic,’ the boy corrects.

‘You’re working in a coffee shop wearing a shirt with a coffee cup that is a parody on an art piece, and the wrong grammar is supposed to be “poetic”. Triple.’

The boy laughs. ‘Okay, you got me there. Cappuccino extra cream?’

Lydia nods, surprised that Cora seems to come here often enough for him to have remembered Cora’s order. She’d figured that maybe Cora’s come in her once or twice, but this makes her think Cora is a regular.

‘Make it two,’ she says.

‘Oh, you bring someone?’ the boy says excitedly, looking around the room. When he looks impossibly more excited, Lydia follows his gaze and sees that he’s looking at Cora. ‘You brought Lydia! Does that mean you’ll finally be gracing us with your poetry tonight? Impress the girl with a poem especially for her? It’s open entry and there’s still a free slot.’

Lydia is stunned for a moment, not sure which piece of information she should take in first, that Cora talks about her enough that this guy recognizes her, or at least her body, at first sight, or that Cora wrote a poem about her. Cora looks up at that moment, a smile flickering on her lips when their eyes meet. Lydia blushes and turns back to the boy who is now busy making their drinks.

‘Not tonight,’ she fumbles, looking for an excuse. ‘What I wrote isn’t exactly for public consumption.’ She raises her eyebrows the way she imagines Cora would, for emphasis.

The boy chuckles as he puts the two cappuccinos in front of her. ‘Some other time then. You promised.’

‘Some other time,’ Lydia nods.

She quickly pays, and makes her way back to Cora in a daze. Cora wrote her a poem, and she told other people about that poem. Cora talked to other people about _her_.

‘You okay?’ Cora leans in to whisper, her breath ghosting over Lydia’s neck. ‘Charlie say something?’

‘It’s nothing. Just a little chitchat,’ Lydia tries to ease the girl’s mind. She leans back in her chair and sips her coffee. She can feel Cora’s eyes still on her, but decides to ignore it in favour of the poetry slam that’s starting.

It’s more fun than she expected, especially when Cora mumbles her disagreement with the judges or snorts in derision at some of the poems. But a couple times Cora leans forward, her elbows resting on the table in front of them, completely focussed on the stage and the words being recited. Halfway through, Lydia slides of her chair and Cora asks her if she wants to leave, but Lydia shakes her head and tells her she’s just getting them another drink. Charlie doesn’t ask any questions this time, just gives her a wink when he hands her the refilled cups.

When the contest is over Cora and Lydia move to the exit with most of the other patrons, but before they reach the door, they’re stopped by Charlie, a towel thrown over his shoulder, pulling them to the side.

‘So how’d you like it, your first poetry slam?’ Charlie asks Cora, who bites her lip to keep from laughing.

‘It was fun,’ Cora says. She glances at Lydia to make sure she said the right thing. Lydia gives her a quick nod.

‘Well, maybe you could come again next week and finally convince Cora to get on that stage.’

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Lydia quickly says, before Cora can answer, and pulls on Cora’s hand to get her out of the coffee shop.

‘That you did,’ Charlie shouts after them, waving with his towel.

They walk in silence for a while, more or less in the direction of the car. Their hands are still clasped together, and Lydia doesn’t want to be the first to pull away. It’s an odd sensation, feeling how their hands fit together, but from the wrong side.

‘So,’ she finally says. ‘You wrote a poem about me?’

Cora stops in her tracks, looking at her with wide eyes. Her heart starts to race and Lydia can smell how her scent changes. The wide-eyed look of terror quickly turns into the more common pissed off.

‘Charlie,’ Cora growls, but it still doesn’t really work with Lydia’s vocal cords.

‘Can I read it?’ Lydia feels her own heart slam against her ribcage, and she’s glad Cora can’t hear it for once. She grips Cora’s hand a little tighter to make sure she doesn’t run off.

‘I… I already packed my notebook,’ Cora says, looking at their entwined fingers.

‘So unpack.’

Cora snaps her head up so fast Lydia thinks she might accidentally break her neck. Her eyes roam over Lydia’s face, like she’s looking for something.

‘You want me to unpack?’ Cora asks, sounding breathless.

Lydia swallows. ‘I never wanted to you to pack in the first place.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Cora lays a trembling hand against Lydia’s cheek.

‘I can’t be your only reason to stay,’ Lydia tells her. She really can’t. She can’t carry that burden, no matter how much she wishes she could.

‘You wouldn’t. You won’t be,’ Cora promises.

Lydia grabs Cora’s waist with her free hand and pulls her closer, there lips barely brush before both girls pull back at the same time.

‘We’re not doing this while still in each other’s body,’ Cora says, looking a little disturbed.

‘It’s too weird, even for us,’ Lydia agrees.

Cora steps back, but keeps hold of Lydia’s hand. They start walking again. Every once in a while, Lydia glances at Cora, and finds the other girl looking back at her. She smiles when that happens and Cora smiles back. It’s still weird, seeing Cora’s expressions on her own face, but Lydia is starting to think that if they can’t resolve this quickly, there isn’t anyone she would entrust her body to.

When they arrive back at the apartment, Derek is reading on the couch. He raises his eyebrows in question when they step through the door.

‘Lydia’s gonna stay here tonight,’ Cora says.

‘So, no change?’

‘I wouldn’t say no change, but we _are_ still in the wrong body,’ Lydia says, squeezing Cora’s hand.

They make their way to Cora’s bedroom, but Cora stops and turns to her brother when they pass by the couch.

‘Derek, can we stay?’ she asks

Derek looks at her in confusion, then glances down and sees the way their hands are locked together. He smiles and nods, and goes back to his book.

‘Just don’t be too loud,’ he says when they reach Cora’s room

Lydia bites her lip to keep in her chuckle when Cora leans back out the door to give her brother the finger.

~

Again, Lydia wakes up with her head pounding. But this time, she knows it’s not from any drinks. She blinks open her eyes and is met with a mass of dark hair that is definitely not attached to her own head. She shoots up and looks down at Cora lying next her. Not just Cora, but Cora in _Cora’s body_.

‘Thank god,’ she whispers.

‘What?’ Cora mumbles, turning towards her and pulling her back down.

‘We’re back in our bodies,’ Lydia grins.

‘Hmm.’

Lydia waits a beat, then Cora’s eyes snap open. They’re the kaleidoscope of colours that, like the eyebrows and being a werewolf, seem to be a Hale trademark. Cora blinks once, twice, then wraps a leg around Lydia’s hip, pulling her close. Lydia barely catches the soft smile on Cora’s lips before moving forward and pressing their lips together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


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